If Only They Knew

My battle with anorexia nervosa lasted much of middle school and into my senior year of high school. Students at Riverview High School knew that I had a mental illness, and it had a significant impact on how they treated me. I moved to Madison High School at the beginning of my junior year. Since I had mostly healed by that point, I made the conscious decision not to disclose my eating disorder to anyone at that school. Friends from Riverview and Madison cared about me, although their approaches varied widely in lunchroom discourse and their own assessments of my character and demeanor.

Lunchtime at Riverview was almost always a dreadful experience for me. When I walked into the cafeteria, I imagined that everyone would be staring at my gangly form. A usual lunch would be to sit at a table with my friends and try to enjoy it as much as possible. My buddies were getting worried since I didn't normally eat lunch. To ensure that I was eating properly, they would keep an eye on me to see if I was doing it right. I'd pretend to eat and then squish bits of food into a napkin and toss it in the garbage. Friends' outrage at learning the truth only served to complicate matters. Obviously lunch was not my favorite part of the day, and it was a stressful experience.

When I started at Madison, I found that I no longer dreaded eating lunch. Because no one was aware of my eating condition, they had little interest in what I ate. This has relieved me of a great deal of tension. At long last, I was no longer restricted in my food choices. While eating in front of others was still difficult for me (as it is for many anorexics), I was able to overcome some of my anxieties. I began to savor my lunches instead of chucking them in the garbage.

Riverview friends would instead talk about my condition rather of "female stuff," such as boys. Rather of fixing their hair, girls would follow me into the bathroom and check to see if I was vomiting. Because we had to pay attention to anorexia, we were never able to engage in usual middle school girl banter. For all I cared, Mike Reynolds looked adorable that day.

When I arrived in Madison, I was surprised to find that all of the life-and-death discussions had vanished. It was a lot of fun to chat about the tiny things that happened in our daily lives. When the topic of eating problems was broached, I was not the primary focus. I like the privacy of being able to go to the bathroom without having to be followed by anyone. At Madison, I participated in more than my fair share of school-related conversation.

Riverview children had generalized about my character, and my actions were influenced by their preconceptions. They acted on their intuition to help me. They showed care, but they never bothered to learn anything about me as a human being. They only knew me as a person who was bulimic. My friends were concerned about my well-being, but they were unconcerned with my well-being as a person. To be honest, all I wanted was for people to accept me for who I am and not focus on my flaws.

It was apparent that the staff at Madison College cared about getting to know me on a personal level. As a result, they were unaware of my past as an anorexic, and this did not influence their perceptions of my character. My abilities and accomplishments were finally acknowledged, and not just because of what I had done wrong in the past. It was an honor to be singled out for special recognition for my academic achievements. As a cheerleader, I was given special recognition, and no one gave a damn about how I looked in my skirt. Finally, someone could see me for who I really was. Because I enjoyed how people perceived me at Madison, I no longer felt a need to hide my genuine self.

During my time as anorexic, I learned valuable lessons that I would not give up for anything. They taught me how to be a better friend and how to live my life. Routine tasks, like having lunch, taught me a lot. Things like a gang of adolescent girls gossiping about each other taught me to appreciate the little things in life. Since then, I've come to appreciate the value of having solid character. I have no ill will toward people who made such a valiant effort to assist me. I owe them a great deal of gratitude. And I'm grateful for the people who helped me recognize that there's more to life than anorexia.